Letters
by Munkii
Summary: On the battlefield, a young medic learns to be selfish. Yuri
1. Chapter 1

The ground shook with the trampling of boots. Of machines of war. Of the Zerg infestation resisting obliteration. The thundering roar of Wraiths sent tremors through the earthen floor, rattling lose rocks to dance in the light of the low star, casting long shadows like daggers, pointing into the darkness beyond.

Darkness. That was a place to be right now. Away from this mess called war. Away from these soldiers and these giant bugs, and metal beasts in the sky, and on the ground. Away from the stench of death, of dying. Away from this miserable place, anything sounded better then here, then now.

The long stride of a running ultralisk passed by close, rampaging forth to some unknown ends. It was said that the great beasts came from gentle creatures. Unfathomable as it may be, perhaps there is some good left in them. Perhaps the darkness will welcome them as well when they are driven to extinction by war.

Gunfire erupted, the bullets passing overhead. It was a welcome sound. Perhaps a medic was with them. Perhaps, but not likely. I already knew I was the only medic in this battle. The healer, the caregiver, the mother to the very troops fighting right now. And here I was, lying in pools of blood. Of Zerg bile and human. Of my own. The red baked in the heat of the setting sun, giving off the pungent smell of iron.

The soldier next to me, the one I was trying to save from the darkness minutes ago, was already dead. A barb had punctured his leg initially, I was going to stop the bleeding, but apparently the hydralisk wasn't done yet. It had fired another two spines several minutes later, one into the man's skull, and one into my lung, moments after I had reached him.

See you soon, I thought. My resignation to die was upon me. My med-kit was splayed across the battlefield, some distance away. I couldn't tell how far, blood obstructed by vision in one eye, and a small piece of the soldier's skull had blown off into my other, ripping the fragile tissue easily. The syringe which had been in my hand at the time of injury was empty, I had already dumped the pain killers into myself after seeing the soldier would no longer need them. The dead feel no pain. The dying feel all to much.

My hand dropped the instrument onto the ground. Doctor Serra signing off... perhaps. But I wasn't ready. No, not for the black abyss. Not unless... My hand reached compulsively for the pendant around my neck. It was still there, drenched in my own blood. I held it tight in my hand, the sharp edges cutting into my fingers. A little more blood loss wouldn't hurt.

And then, my mind clicked, and I remembered. There was a letter waiting for me. Waiting for me back at the barracks. From the same person... The same dear soul that gave me this pendant. I wanted to read that letter... But people were already dying when I was awoken this morning, and I only had a chance to read who it was from. Of course, it was from the only person that wrote to me. Every week actually.

What the hell was I doing here? Lying in myself, contemplating my own death? I was a medic, a doctor, why couldn't I save myself? I leaned up to look at my wound, and then I remembered I could barely see. That was why... I couldn't see anything, even the medicine and neo-tissue applications... Were off in the distance somewhere... Somewhere else but where I needed them right now.

Coughing blood as I did so, I slammed my left hand to the ground in a fist. Well, into the soldier next to me. The chest armor easily stopped my hand, and it fell to the side of the soldier... to something cylindrical and cool to the touch... A canteen. My other hand reached out to help grasp the object, but I stopped it quickly. The sound of scattering feet coming closer suddenly filled my ears and dominated my focus. Closer and closer. It must be coming for me. I held my gasping breath as it neared.

My left hand, still close to the pistol on my leg, moved slowly to upholster the weapon. The creature approaching me hadn't noticed yet. If I was going to finally die, I wasn't going to let it happen event less. Like my life was so unimportant that I would just let it happen. No... it was important... The person that gave me this pendant, the person that wrote that letter... The person that gave me reason to breath.

Out of the corner of my left eye, the only sight I had, a shadow appeared. I couldn't make out features of course, the vision out of the sides of the eye is too weak to do that. It was clear however, that the creature next to me was a zergling. And it was inspecting the corpse of the soldier next to me. Well, it was the first one to inspect, and I didn't want to be the second. Not while I had life.

A great sound from the direction of the battlefield filled the air, and the ground shook immensely. Siege tanks. Finally. The zergling stopped moving, listening. It turned to the direction of the sound.

A second later, my hand was holding a smoking gun. The shot had penetrated and exited the zergling, and it's body fell to the side of the soldier oozing some foul smelling liquid. I saw it twitching in my dim vision as I gasped for air finally, though I couldn't get a clear shot at the beast. I grabbed the canteen quickly, the adrenaline of the kill fueling my survival. The water saturated the blood in my eye, and the residue loosened. I began to blink away the blood, taking a sip of the water for myself as I did so.

The zergling was looking at me with a half dead eye as it tried to stand up, but it was too late. My left eye saw clearly, and I fired a shot into the zergling's head. The creature fell still, and I rested the pistol back into my holster.

I breathed a small sigh of relief, though my breath came up short. My lung was still punctured. The bleeding was not so bad, but without aid I would lose consciousness. I tilted my head up so I could see the battlefield. Smoke and fire, and great carcasses filled the expanse. The battle had been pushed into the Zerg's territory it seemed.

The med-pack I needed was three yards away. Nine feet of torture. I dug my hands into the ground and leaned up with all my strength, blood sloshing around in my lung, only to drool out onto my uniform from the wound. The barb was sticking out of me, almost as if had always been there, as if I was a genetic experiment gone wrong. Then again, I was a genetic experiment. The Confederacy had had there way with me when I was born.

Feeling no strength to actually stand up, I leaned forward slowly, slipping my legs behind me, one by one. I crawled that distance for eternity. The pain killers were wearing down now, my lung was on fire. My chest was burning. The blood stung my throat as I swallowed it into my stomach. All the genetic experiments had turned my life force into a toxic, life-giving goo that tasted like iron-enriched crude oil.

Three feet left, memories of the letter were the only thing keeping me going. They were the only thing driving me forward against the unbearable pain. Pain killers weren't designed to last more then fifteen minutes, since most marines died shortly after they were administered adrenaline and morphine anyways. The Confederacy trained the marines to fight until death, not rest and go home. Though perhaps it could be said, the battlefield was the home of any marine. It was also their grave.

My body threatening to collapse as I gasped for air, my hand reached forward to the supplies I desperately needed. I pulled the metal box towards me greedily, opening it up like I had done in the past so many times. The familiar look of my carefully organized fixings reminded me of the quiet moments at the barracks when I would check and repackage the med-pack every morning. And the letters I would read after finishing my task.

I removed an injector from the kit and jammed it into my chest. The small nano-machines entered my lung quickly. The display on the injector returned the status of the machines, apparently the wound damaged ten square centimeters of tissue. I removed a neo-tissue capsule from my kit and locked it into the injector, and the liquid transferred into me. The readout displayed it was time to remove the foreign object.

This was a first, actually. Never before was I in a position to remove a spine from myself. I injected more pain killers into my blood and grasped hold of the spine with my free gloved hand. I took a short, gasping breath, and pulled the spine out. I pulled the second trigger on my injector, and the energy component of the nano-machines filled my chest. The working nano-machines grew hot as they mingled with the liquid energy, searing parts of my insides back together. Even with pain killers, I could still feel my chest burning from within. But I knew I would be okay, for at least a little while. I looked back at the read out with my one good eye. My blood pressure was at the lower ranges of okay. Only okay. I had lost quite a bit of blood.

Gaining some energy back, as I was not gasping for air constantly, I bent over the ground and let the remaining blood and lose machines in my chest come into my throat so I could cough them out. It tasted horrible, especially with the energy mixture in it, but I knew it would help. I was a doctor after all.

The repercussion of another siege tank strike shook the air and darkening skies. Apparently the battle was to continue on into the night. I reached over to my med-kit for some injectable vitamins and fluids and I loaded the syringes all the way and jammed them into my arm. It would keep me going long enough to get back to safety. I put the injector back into the med-kit and latched it, swinging it around onto my back.

Slipping my hand under my uniform, I wipe the blood away from the wound, just above my right breast. The skin was closed at the surface, though touching it was mildly painful. Being run though is going to hurt a little. My hand wondered over to pendant, and I grasped it. I stood up, a certain victory over death washing over me. No, more then that... I new hope for reading that letter. I wanted to read that letter.

I looked down at the corpses next to me, both quite dead and devoid of any life. I felt sorry for the marine, though that didn't stop me from taking his gun. It still had a full clip. Speaking of which, I figured it would be a good idea to take his clips too. I picked them up and tucked them under my belt. Out of sheer oddity, I took the spine and tucked it into my boot as a trophy.

The battlefield in this area was like some horrible picture. Looking across the expanse, bodies were strewn in every which way. The stench of blood filled the air. Not a soul stirred... There were none here, except for mine. I had a seen it before. Many times before. I used to cry. I used to care about everyone. But I can't do that anymore... No. There was only one truth for me right now. I cannot die, not for my sake, but instead, for the sake of that person. The one person. The person that keeps me alive in my heart. I turned towards the blank horizon where I had marched into battle from. It was empty of people, they were all fighting. The barracks stood like a great pillar of death, shadowing the remaining rays of light like an ominous figure. It was the direction I needed to walk.

Shaking, I walked slowly across the expanse. A great light covered my back as another siege strike was unleashed, though I ignored it. My feet carried me onwards, even as my mind began to fade with the dwindling light. I activated the flashlight on the end of the gun, and it lit the solemn battlefield in front of me. Heads missing, chests full of spines. Ultralisks and hydralisks covered in seeping bullet holes and charred hair.

As the second injection of pain killers wore off, my senses began to burn, but I was to detached from myself to realize it. The letter is all I wanted. All I needed. Her voice in my soul. It would be okay. I knew it would be okay if I could hear that voice once more. The voice of my guardian angel, in this fire.

"Williams, what the hell you think you doing?" barked a man, and I snapped out of my reverie. "We got men dying an' you're back here takin' a stroll home!"

It was a platoon leader. Not mine, but just the same he did have a few ranks on me. I turned to face him so he could clearly see my uniform, and the hole in it. He was scavenging ammunition from the corpses of his comrades.

"Sir, do you have a hole through you too or can I go on my way?" I replied hoarsely. A bit of blood came from my mouth, and dropped onto my blood-stained uniform. The man looked at me hatefully, suddenly understanding my uselessness on the battlefield. He had no pity on me.

"I want you on the battlefield in four hours." He ordered. He turned back to his vehicle and jumped in. "Four hours or I'm dragging you here myself." The engine started suddenly, and he disappeared into the darkness, heading towards the front lines. I starred at him with all of the hate in my being. All the hate for this misdirected government, for this war, for this pain. For this distance between me and her. Distance not in miles, but in dead bodies. In time. In emotions. A tear crawled down my face from my bad eye.

"I hope you die!" I shouted into the wind. "So no one will expect to me come, because I won't! I won't come!" Tears rolled down my cheeks. For a good hour the only thing on my mind had been getting back to the barracks, to read that letter. And now this General's butt-kisser is calling me back to the battlefield? Away from the one thought that kept me going? Yea right, buddy. Have a 'nade. Or a spine to the chest, that would work too. "'Hope a Zerg eats your balls!" With that I turned around and started walking to the barracks again.

I could certainly be childish, even in my sadness, in my hate. Perhaps this childish keeps me sane though. Perhaps Amy likes it when I'm childish. Perhaps I'm thinking to much about being childish. Perhaps I am. Yes, I think Amy likes when I'm childish. Her childhood was stolen away. I miss my childhood...

"Wake up Sista!" I told myself quickly. The blood loss wasn't helping my focus at all, though I was moving closer to the barracks now. At this rate, maybe twenty minutes away. The letter would be in my hands. I would be reading it. I would be smiling. A little bit. Amy still doesn't know I love her. She will soon though. Coming so close to death... Well, it changes my perspective on things. Primarily, I need to be selfish with my feelings, I think. I can't keep giving life to other people if I am losing my own to insanity. To loneliness. To spines in the chest. Things have to change or I'll be just like the veteran marines... a soulless soldier of the war effort. They get some every once in awhile... from a whore. No way in hell I'd go for that though.

The time passed slowly, but it passed. I was at the main gate of the barracks. The guard on duty didn't speak to me, he just opened the door, his eyes on my eye, on my chest. The blood was still damp. Again I reminded myself, like I always do, how accustomed I am to seeing horrendous things. I moved inside, and down the hallway to my private quarters. If there was one thing about being the only female, and a medic, in the military, I had my own quarters. Moments later I was inside the familiar room. The bare gray walls welcomed me.

The gun, the med-pack, and my belt fell to the floor immediately. I turned on the light, and turned towards the sink. The person reflected in the mirror above it was a mess, and I turned on the water. The hot water was cold, like always.

My right eye was gouged horribly. I would have to put in an electronic one. My uniform was of course still blood-soaked with a hole above my right breast. I took it off carefully, and let it drop to the floor besides the gun, which now that I thought about, had the safety off still. Not that it really mattered I guess. The marines never had the safety on anyways.

My skin was stained with my blood. The rivulets had flown around my breasts and down my side and stomach. The wound itself was inflamed, and it would probably be that way for a week or two. I took a wash cloth and wiped the majority of it away in a practiced method. And then I turned to the lone table on the other side of the room. The lone table with the pale white letter on it.

Now that I was here, ready to read the letter, I felt guilty for all those thoughts of love I had felt for Amy on the way back. She was married, not even that long ago. I don't know the circumstances of her relationship with her husband, she doesn't speak about them. And I am not inclined to ask.

"Stop it! Just stop it!" I told myself sternly. I was being selfless again. The one thing that kept me in my sadness all these long years. The one thing that prevented me from acting before she married. The idea that I was worthless. The very idea that had been ingrained into my thoughts by the military. The idea that I was a speck of color in the big picture. No... I wasn't just a speck, nor was I just a color. I was the speck of white on the otherwise black canvas. We as a people, we were fighting to be free, and happy, and to live peaceful lives. Lives like mine where I love someone!

The wash cloth fell to the floor as I leaped towards the letter, snatching it up hungrily. My hands trembled as the feel of the paper reached my mind. I rubbed my fingers over the handwritten letters on the front. "To Miss Serra Williams, Block43-B, Barracks A, Colony 27"

The letter slid out easily into my hands, and the aroma that was Amy filled the room like it always did. I unfolded it carefully, even though the paper was study and of the best available quality. The letters were finely written, Amy's handwriting was perfected after years of writing scientific essays. She was a scientist after all. Laying on my bed, I began to read.

"Dearest Serra,

"I got word today that there was going to be a major ruffle in your region. I canceled a test this afternoon to write you. In the case you don't return... you would have had something from me that morning. I know it sounds awkward, forgive me, I am an awkward person.

"Loneliness has always been your thing, Serra. Every letter you have written me it is painfully apparent that you have no one to talk to. I should have said something sooner, back before you left the academy. I should have let you closer to me. Before our lives were ... changed. Before we couldn't talk easily to each other.

I had to wipe a tear away as the memories resurfaced about our younger years together. They were precious, to the both of us.

"Okay, I'm sick of hiding it: I want you to get a better education back here in Colony 4. They have great schools for all sorts of medical knowledge. Life saving knowledge.

"Vastly contrasting from my normal procedures, I am making it so you don't have an option anymore. Your too selfless to do it yourself... I'm going to have you transferred to Colony 4. I've even checked into the medic transfers and they are sending a fresh batch in a weeks time, so you can come back and learn more in a positive environment once the request goes through."

I had to set the letter down. Everything Amy was saying was wonderful, yet at the same time, cryptic. The letter was read by a military personal before it was sealed and mailed, well, that's what I knew at least. Amy was only the head scientist for a small laboratory, she didn't really have the power to transfer me. But she did know the people. I already knew she was super smart though.

"Life saving knowledge?" I read out loud. Obviously a reference to the 90 fatality rate for marines over the course of ten years service. "Positive environment?" For some reason, I really liked the way that one sounded. The whole letter thus far felt like Amy was trying to convey she would do everything in her means to not only get me out of this damnable barracks, but 'open' me up. Well, that's the impression I got at least. Remembering there was still letter left to read, I focused on the pages in front of me.

"Everything I want to say to you, everything... I would like to tell you in person. It is something that I cannot convey in words. However, it will be conveyed whether or not you are ready for it. Whether or not you like it. You could hate me for it, you could love me for it. You could want to die. You could want to kill me. You could want to cry. It will be okay... After years and years of indecisiveness on my part, I have gotten over the idea of having to feel gratitude after sharing a private thought. As long as you know, I will be happy being in your life. I anyway.

"Serra, Please be safe, never know what or who. Amy"

Amy certainly had something secret to share with me, she closed the letter with our secret line that basically summarized "This letter would have been ten pages longer if I had shared everything with you, but it would have gotten me in trouble."

I didn't realize Amy was indecisive, but at the same time I could find no secret meaning in the words. Sighing, I reread the paragraph. She was being serious. "You could want to die?" From Amy? That sweet scientist girl, my angel? Something serious no doubt...

"She loves me..." I said in a whisper to myself. The letter made sense under the pretense that she loved me. Under the pretense that she would be killed for loving me. By her husband, no doubt. Tears ran down my cheek, dropping softly to roll off my blood colored chest, washing away the red into the sheets on my bed. It was readily apparent what I had to do do at this point.

"I need to get out of here. To Colony 21, tonight. I'll be dead by morning if I have to go back onto the field." I took several deep breaths. My lung was horribly sore, but it worked. I was a bit dizzy from blood loss, but I could walk. I could think. I was tired all over, but I could function. I grabbed a sheet of cheap paper, and a pen.

"Amy,

"There are no words to express how much things have changed, please accept my denial of your hospitality."

I had to keep it short, I had to make sure any official investigation would show Amy as a dead end. To show that I had no interest in Amy, as much as possible. And to also make sure she would cancel the request for my transfer. If the transfer went through, it would not look like coincidence to the investigators. Should they even bother with me disappearing.

"Please be safe, never know what or who."


	2. Chapter 2

The still air hung in the hallways like a ghost clinging to its former life. A life of masculinity, of showing off. Of sharing porn and booze and smokes. Of playing jokes on one another, and stealing bath towels. Barracks life... with men.

These halls would be quiet for sometime, I thought. The marines, the support personnel... Many of them were dead right now. It wasn't anything new to me, I had been around for more then a few years worth of soldiers. Somehow, I had managed to avoid being injured seriously. Up until now. I suppose the same could be true for my selfishness. I avoided it up until now. Avoided it like I was told to.

"No more," I whispered to myself as I fastened a cloak around me. The halls were chilly at night. And as for me in my present condition, my body wasn't strong enough to generate heat to stay warm against it. Not after an hour and a half ago... Being run through with a spine. The closeness of that death chilled my soul. Not because I was afraid to die, but because I was afraid of losing her...

"Amy..." The name came forth as it was summoned. As if it was the password to the gates that lie ahead, in life or death. It was the name of the path before me, and the end of the path behind me.

I had taken all of my letters from Amy, my med-kit, which I had restocked, and replacement eye for when I had time to mend myself. My uniform was hidden beneath a jacket and the cloak I had just fastened. I had a small amount of currency with me, though I didn't expect to need it. My pistol was attached to my leg once more, and my stolen gun hung beneath my cloak. Two clips and a canteen were fastened to my belt. And the spine that had pierced me, I had that in my boot.

And like that, I disappeared down the hallway. I dropped the letter I had written for Amy in the mail offices. No one was there. I stamped it with the security stamp over the envelope's seal and set it in the outbound mail receptacle. And I was gone from there, too.

All the way to the main gate, there was no life. Not much had changed since I had walked through. Even the guard was the same... The guard knew my face... He had seen me come in. My thoughts rolled back to the medic motto of "Do no harm". There wasn't much to think about however, the very men I heal would turn around and stab me in the back at a moments notice. I approached the desk of the gate man and looked up into his eyes.

"You aren't due out for three hours or so, Williams. Something going on?" The guard asked me. I smiled back.

"I got a private report there was infectious organisms near the barracks, I've been asked to immunize the guards." I replied, lying through my teeth. It didn't matter, the guards were stupid. Not because I said so, but because I knew so. The mind-bending agents they are given to promote their growth destroys their thinking capacity entirely.

"I never received that report, Williams." Oh, so he's a smart one? I turned away from the desk and made to begin walking away.

"I said it was private. Your grave mate." I took a step before he stopped me. He was standing up, his eyes looking at me intently.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, I didn't mean it that way. Please?" He rolled up his sleeve and stuck out his arm. I turned around and unfastened my med-pack. Taking out a syringe, I filled it with a clear liquid from one of my many containers.

"Thank you for being a good sport." I plunged the needle into his arm and injected the sleeping drugs. The man promptly fell to the floor. I had given him five doses too many. "Sorry, I don't have the option to be selfless anymore."

I drew the spine from my boot into my gloved hand. It glimmered in the dim light, the razor sharp point still coated with my own blood. "Ironic the way this worked out. The spine that saved my life once, will save it again. Sorry bud, you'll be happier in the darkness."

It was over the instant the spine pierced his heart, through to the other side. I got up before the blood begin to seep around the wound, and stepped behind the desk to verify that security maintenance was slacking off again. Yup, the cameras were off line still. It would have been okay if they were working too though, I would have just needed to torch the computers in one of the back rooms. If it was one thing I had over these brutish marines, it was intelligence.

Feeling like a psychotic killer now, I knew it was time to leave. I opened the gates and walked into the chilly evening air. It always amazed me how fast the air cooled. While on our neighbor planet during some intensive training, the air always held a balanced temperature. Amy told me once it was because of the oceans.

Lights could be seen in the distance. Headlights even. A green flare was going off in the distance. Apparently, the Confederacy had won this battle. And if they did actually win, that might just be the end of the Zerg infestation on this planet. We had them cornered against a mesa, their last hatchery. If that's the case, we should be seeing cleanup crews coming through soon enough to neutralize the toxins.

"Doesn't bode well for me I guess, one way or another." If they are done fighting, the Confederacy may wind up looking for me if they see through my plans. I wasn't the best at strategy, I wasn't the smartest. There were people out their smarter then me. Like Amy. Yes, she was smarter then me. By a lot.

I hurried along my way. The lone road out to the barracks was just that: lonely. In the early hours of night, the only people along it were the drunkards from the pubs. But not tonight. Half of them must have been lifeless piles in the desert. Any normal person would shudder, I know. But I don't shudder. I'm not squeamish. I've been told I have the stomach of a battle cruiser. Not that that makes much sense, but I don't really care right now. Just me and this lonesome night.

And Amy, I remind myself. Somewhere... There is Amy. Wondering about me, worried about me, dreaming about me. I like it when she worries a little about me and lets me know in her letters. I like it when she wishes for my very best and quick return from each scuffle. Though, I guess it's fair to say, I like everything about her.

Speaking of which, I haven't seen Amy in God-knows how long. It must have been nearing four years now. But every week... In her letters... I saw her heart. She hid it very well, but she had too. But every week, I would read her letter, and know that her soul was still alive. Still fighting. Still wanting something good. And speaking of God-knows, I have no idea where the term came from. Strange isn't it? I can use the term and not know where it came from.

Though I could say that about love too. I haven't really experienced it in its entirety yet. All I know is that my heart tells me it's wonderful. Beautiful, vivid, comforting. I know all these things to be true, because now that my feelings are straight, I feel these things mildly in my chest. And with each step closer to Amy, the girl I could truly say I would die for, these feelings grow stronger.

The blood I put back into myself before I dressed up flowed through my veins easily. My muscles were strong again, having what amounted to fluid in a hydraulic device. Each step happened in rhythm to the tune of freedom. I would need to get some food from the Colony hub tonight, but with that and a bit of stimulants from my med-pack, I would be capable of walking all night to Colony 21. I would dare not risk transport. Being the only medic in the area, the soldiers knew me by face.

"You have an eye missing." It was a funny thing to say to myself, but it was true. I did have an eye missing. I plucked it out shortly after deciding my plans. It oozed a little, so I set some nano-machines to in it to cauterize the vessels. They did a nice job. Once I get a few hours of free time, I will stick in an electronic one and calibrate it. I'll even have it match my natural eye color of green. It went nicely with my bleach white hair. Don't ask me how, but the scientists managed to give me white hair with a bit of gene manipulation when I was born. It was short right now, though I couldn't remember when it was long to begin with.

My feet fell upon the ground, one after another. My mind was occupying itself with weird subjects now. I was hidden away in a cloak with guns strapped to me and I just killed a man with a spine that was once in my chest, shot from a hydralisk that is probably dead right now. Oh, and I'm missing an eye and I have a partially-healed hole through my chest. And I'm on a mission to find Amy and make love to her while I remain a fugitive to the Confederacy. Did I mention I am self-entertaining?

"Well, I am!" I shouted to myself, into the black air. The dim stars overhead lit the road I walked upon, but that was all I could see, besides the lights of the city ahead. It was eight miles to this one, and then from there, twenty miles to Colony 21.

Amy of course occupied my mind the rest of the way. It wasn't long before I was in the hustle and bustle of the night life. Drunks, rapists, and thugs. It was swell. Really. I hastily purchased some rations from a small food mart, and continued on my way. Noticing the lowlifes around me were becoming thicker as I passed through the interior of the city, I loaded a syringe with some of my fancy sleeping drugs and kept the device hidden in my cloak. I am Serra, the syringe serial killer. Beware.

It was at this point of my raving fantasies that I wondered if all the meds I injected into myself were having some negative impact on my character. I suppose it didn't matter. It helped me pass the time.

..x.x.X.x.x..

The star was beginning to rise, warming me slightly as I passed through the outer gates of Colony 21. Soldiers were hustling around, their daily exercise had just began. My exercise was just coming to an end. All ten hours of it.

I looked to the city as it came to life. It was much nicer then where I had come from. Law enforcement was in effect pretty well. I knew I would have to stay low today, so I sought out a small pub. When I arrived finally at the door, the star's light was fully on the city.

I knocked on the door until the keeper answered. He was a gruff, old man. Seen a lot of fights you could say, I suppose. He looked at me carefully, and I looked back at him, with all one of my eyes.

"Com' in."

I stepped in quickly, and he closed the door behind me. The bar was musty and used. Liquor stains on the floor, next to blood stains. The smell of smoke and booze and poor hygiene dominated my thoughts, but I ignored it.

"Wha' can I do fer ya lass?" He spoke evenly, as if he knew what my situation was already. His eyes looked at me, old and soft. He had been through many trials.

"I need a place to stay the day." The man looked at me, expecting more. "To sleep. I need sleep." I added quickly.

"Looks like tha' wound's fresh, lass. Yer eye." He made a motion to point at his own eye. I smiled.

"You wouldn't believe me, but a chunk of bone took it right out. Soldier's skull flicked right into it. Hurt like hell until I found the strength to med myself." I could tell my eyes were shining. I was proud of that story. The story not more then a day old. The man smiled back at me.

"I believe ya, I was on the field once. Medic even." He grinned. "Laugh at me if ya want, I was the best damned man medic ou' there though."

"No no, medic is a noble line of work." My smiled turned down slightly at those words, I had broken the do no harm rule. I wasn't noble anymore. The man caught this, I knew, but he didn't speak immediately.

"Lass, I know yer predicamen'. I ran away. Ran far an' wide, to my Mother. Bless 'er soul. She was sick, but no doctor would come fer 'er. Anyways, I'm sure ya get wha' I'm get'in at." I nodded, and finding myself in a seemingly safe environment, my body began to sag. Sleep depravation was catching up to me. "Here here lass, righ' this way."

He lead me into the basement, though he didn't stop there. He opened a hidden door in the wall, and lead me through to a very small room, the walls of which where lined with medicine, and in the middle of it all was an old cot.

"This is my stash, I trea' the poor. They never see this room though. Always done upstairs. Here, please lie down lass. 'Let you be and wake ya at star-set." And with that, he disappeared, closing the secret door behind him as he left.

Well, he was a medic alright. He was kind and understanding at that. Currently very comfortable with the idea that I would be safe here, I lay face up on the cot after removing the things attached to my back. The sub-machine gun however stayed on my chest.

"Amy..." I whispered to myself as I fell asleep moments later.

..x.x.X.x.x..

I was awoken by the noisy stomping upstairs. Like someone had let lose a bucket of marbles on the floor, and they never stomped bouncing. It must have been eight or so, when the soldiers were allowed to leave the barracks for the night.

I took several breaths in, exhaling them slowly. I looked around the room, remembering where I was. The spine, the walking, the barkeep... Amy. The angel of my heart. She had brought me this far. She had given me the strength to live another day. To crawl out of that accursed desert and have another chance at life. To make it better.

Soldiers upstairs? The sudden thought I might be recognized as I left the pub was unsettling. My mind was quickly coming back on track after the long sleep... It was gearing up for a long night of travel. If I walked, I could get to Colony 13 tonight. It was 40 miles away.

"Chill Serra, chill." I told myself. My mind was bouncing around subjects way to fast. "I need to get out of here first." I leaned up in the cot, slid my legs over, and stood up quickly. One might expect me to be dizzy, but nope, not me. My blood was running quickly already. Running with the thoughts of getting out of this pub, this city. Running with the thought I would be in Amy's arms in short time.

Amy... I couldn't stop thinking about her. I was tempted right then and there to reread her last letter, but I knew... Every minute was precious. Every minute I wait is a minute the Confederacy has to find me. That is, if they are looking. They may very well think I died. And if that's the case, I'm as good as buried on the battlefield, the resting place of most medics.

The men upstairs would be troublesome if they looked at me, or stopped me. If they poked at me, it would be easy to see I was armed. And if the saw my med-kit, it would be easy to see I was a medic. I didn't know what to do. I decided to wing it.

After gathering my things and tightening my cloak, I pulled my hood over my head and went into the basement. No one was there of course, and I closed the secret door gently. I made my way softly up the stairs to the back hallway I had come through. The barkeep looked around the corner, hearing my faint steps. He smiled at me, and winked.

So, this was the way it was going to be? He had a plan already and then we would part our ways? I wondered how often he had done this before, but before long I side-tracked to the idea of leaving him some money. I bent down and deposited a bit on the step behind me, and while he still watched, he nodded his head in understanding, then turned back to a drunk customer with an empty mug. I stepped forward, just barely out of view of the men.

"Quiet down ya lot, I need a favor dun," The gruff old man was pounding an empty mug into a wooden surface. Men talked amiably in the back of the room, drunk as all hell, I knew. "Hey Edwards, shut yer yapper or I'm cuttin' you off!" The barkeep pounded his mug again. The rowdy room was silent.

"What is it Clancy? Not one of your stories again is it?" A soldier replied, and the room chuckled at once.

"You watch yerself Tibbits, I ain't jokin' with any of ya." The barkeep took a breath. "If ya' all want this pub open any longer, ya'll take the landlord's courier to where they need ta go." The mug landed soundly on the wood, and remained still.

"I'll do it Clanc'"

"Yer drunk Robins, I wanna level head." The barkeep was doing a good job for me. He sounded almost like he was having fun... It was time for me to be selfish, I told myself.

I stepped into the thick air of the main room, and the heads turned to me now. I smiled a cold smile, my mouth showing, yet the rest of me masked with darkness. The cloak and the gun beneath it helped to mask my gender even, as it almost made my chest look flat. Serra, mysterious syringe serial killer. "There be the courier now. No questions."

The dim light made it easy to stare at the men with anonymity. I strode through the still room, driving my boots into the floor to make sure they all heard the sound in their drunken ears. I eyed a few men, but their faces spoke tales of plastering.

"These men are drunk as hell, Clancy." I spoke in the deepest tones of my natural voice. Still feminine, but it sounded hard. Unforgiving. I thought back to the moment after I had slain the guard at the barracks. Yes, that kind of hard. It was easy to recall. No one forgets murder. A couple men stirred under my voice. One of them was sitting next to me, a grin on his face. I turned to him, and stared at him from under the hood for several tense moments. This was a battle of the mind, and he, the victim, grew uneasy under my stare. His comrades were looking at him. Of this, he was plainly aware.

"You're lucky you have two," I growled with a startling amount of hate in my voice. "You know, it's not much different getting around with one." I bent low, and tilted my head up. So he could see. See my empty socket. See me blink the lids open and closed, making the disturbing noise of raw flesh slapping against raw flesh. The man recoiled from me, the dim atmosphere amplifying the appearance ten fold. I looked away from him and stood up.

"Get Simmons," The man I had stared back at with death in my lone eye called from behind me. No one moved. He turned around to face his men. "Hell you can hear, get Simmons!" Feet shuffled behind me, and the front door could be heard swinging open and close as they filed out to find this man named Simmons.

"Clancy, I trust you'll take care of these men once I leave. They are good boys. Don't let the war get to them." I spoke, smiling from under the hood to the barkeep as I spoke in the cold voice I had just found within myself. He smiled at me.

"Be my pleasure, lass. I trust you will stop by again?" He meant it too, I knew it. The boys would be talking about this one in their bunks for a week to come. Of the courier maiden and her voice of steel.

"If I am treated properly." Another pair of footsteps left the pub. I turned to face the exit of the building as the door swung shut once more. "It is rare to find caliber among men. Men that appreciate the arts."

"Aye, lass."

I strode from barkeep, and the soldiers, my boots pounding the floor. The men, smoking and drinking silently around me, watched me leave. Their eyes, looking at me with wondrous lust and drunken divinity, told me the secrets of their shallow needs. I suppose it didn't matter, I could have guessed. The pub door swung behind me, closing.

The men that had left the performance were lined up outside, a standard issue military vehicle behind them. A clean faced man stepped forward, his eyes sharp. His jaw rigid. He saluted me.

"First Sergeant Simmons, at your service, Ma'am." He moved perfectly, the practiced rhythm of military service was apparent in every last muscle. "Right this way." I was lead around to the passenger seat, he opened the door, and offered to help me in. I declined with a wave of my hand. He was a nice man, but a cold-faced courier would never ask for a help up. He closed the door behind me, and walked around to the driver's seat.

"Who was it that I had that nice conversation with?" I asked coldly. The man that I showed my eye came forward. "Who are you?"

"2nd Lieutenant Steven Mastella, 21st Colony First Division," He replied promptly.

"I was never here, Mastella." His eyes shot open in understanding, he has just given me the one thing I needed to end his life. A name. His expression lost its neutrality, and became mildly contorted in the evening light.

"Yes Ma'am."

I turned back to Simmons, satisfied. "Drive. The destination will be revealed if you survive five minutes."

"Yes Ma'am."

It was good to be the Queen.


End file.
